


The Elusive Mr. Holmes

by afteriwake



Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-28
Updated: 2014-05-28
Packaged: 2018-01-26 23:16:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1706126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A month after the whole situation with Jamie Moriarty Joan finally meets Sherlock's father, and she gives him a piece of her mind when he tries to tell her that his "hands off" approach with Sherlock is for the best.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Elusive Mr. Holmes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aaronlisa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aaronlisa/gifts).



> And this one was an absolute pleasure to write. This is a gift for my friend **Aaronlisa** who asked for a story where Joan finally meets Sherlock's father ages ago and is also my very last Bingo fill for **land_deduction** , answering the "Taxi" prompt.

She'd given up on ever having a face to face conversation with Mr. Holmes. The stunt Sherlock had pulled hiring the actor had been the start of her seeing it just wasn't going to happen, but as she got closer to his son and their friendship deepened and she saw just how uninvolved he was in what his son was doing she realized that while he might care enough to hire a sober companion he didn't care enough to actually be a part of Sherlock's life. Just because he wanted his son alive didn't mean he wanted to know just how he spent his time, or who his friends were, or what his interests were. She was more and more thankful for the man she considered her father every time she realized she could have had it so much worse.

After the incident with Jamie Moriarty she resolved to be the best possible friend to Sherlock she could be. She didn't suddenly get clingy or pushy, but if he needed her she was there, and if he needed space she gave it. He probably needed a whole lot of things, but friendship was something she and the others could give him without conditions and without expectations. It was a hell of a lot better than what his family had done for him, and at odd moments it would shine through just how much it meant to him. She'd get a grin for no real reason, a thoughtful token left on her bed or a warm cup of tea left on the counter when she woke up. She was sure he was doing the same things with the rest of his friends in his own way.

It had been a month now and things had settled into a good routine. Today she had slept in late because he'd said he didn't need her right away for the case, and a half hour ago he'd called and told her to meet him across town to follow up on a lead. She let herself out of the brownstone and turned to lock up. When she turned back she saw a cab sitting there, the door facing the sidewalk open. She glanced at it for a moment, worried it was another trap of a sort from Moriarty. She cautiously made her way down to it and leaned over. Inside was an aristocratic looking man with a fine cut suit and gray hair. He was looking at her intently. “Ms. Watson,” he said. “Join me?”

“Who are you?” she asked, crossing her arms.

“The elusive Mr. Holmes,” he said. “I believe we need to have a conversation about my son.”

“How do I know you're really his father?”

“I can get on the phone with my son to confirm it for you,” he said, reaching into his suit jacket to pull out a cell phone.

“That sounds like a really good idea, considering I've already been tricked once,” she said.

He nodded, and then pulled up a contact. He tapped his phone once, then again, and then she began to hear ringing. After three rings it was answered. “I didn't expect you to check up on me,” she could hear Sherlock say tersely.

“I have business to discuss with Ms. Watson,” he said. “She's going to be late.”

There was a pause. “Father...” he said. “Don't do anything I'll regret.”

“I'll try.” Mr. Holmes hung up on his son and then turned back to Joan. “If you'll join me?”

She hesitated for a moment, then slid into the seat of the cab. She buckled her seat belt and then the cab took off. “How did you know I was going to need a cab?” she asked.

“I keep tabs on my son,” he said. “I do not stay particularly close, but I decided that after the incident with Irene Adler I probably should have a better idea of what he is doing.” He paused. “Or Jamie Moriarty, I should say.”

“Huh,” Joan said. “That's surprising.”

“What is?” he asked.

“That you actually knew about it. It didn't really make the news that she'd pretended to be Irene Adler. I bet you had something to do with that, didn't you?”

“I may have had a hand in downplaying events, yes,” he said. “But it was in my son's best interest.”

She was quiet for a moment. It was true that Sherlock didn't need the story splashed across newspapers on both sides of the Atlantic. And it was true that the whole incident being very untalked about had helped Sherlock cope. But that didn't mean one thing made up for years of hurt and neglect. “Yes, it was,” she said finally.

“You don't approve of the way I treat my son,” he said.

“No, I don't,” she said, glancing at the cab driver. She wasn't sure how much she wanted a complete stranger to know about her feelings at the moment. But Sherlock's father was the one who had chosen the cab as the place to talk and she had to deal with it. “I mean, it's great that you hired me as a sober companion, but I think you only did it because you want him alive and sober. There has been a lot that's gone on, and if you really are keeping tabs on your son you could have stepped up in some way earlier because you would have known. You basically act like you don't care, and Sherlock deserves better than that.”

“I suppose he does,” Mr. Holmes conceded. “But I am not that type of father. I don't have that type of relationship with my sons.”

“Maybe you should start,” she said, turning to look at him. “Sherlock didn't really overdose on heroin, which I'm fairly sure you're grateful for, but something else could happen. He could get hurt or shot or killed in a way you can't stop and then what are you left with?”

He was quiet for a long while. Joan looked past him when the silence began to get uncomfortable, watching the scenery of New York pass by as they drove. She saw shops and bodegas, apartments and brownstones, all the other things she knew made New York the city it was. She wondered what a man like Sherlock's father thought when he looked at the city. It probably wasn't remotely what Sherlock saw, or what she saw. She didn't know this man at all, and she doubted Sherlock knew him very well either. Finally he spoke. “I suppose I would be left with regrets. But I would bear them.”

“You really are an idiot, then. You have an opportunity to repair your relationship with Sherlock and you won't.” She leaned over and knocked on the plastic partition separating the driver from the two of them. “Pull over,” she told him.

The driver nodded and as soon as he was able he pulled over to the curb. Mr. Holmes looked at him. “I can take you to your destination.”

“No, thank you. I don't think it would be a very enjoyable ride.” She undid her seat belt and then opened the door. “If you're as smart as Sherlock says you are you'll make it a point to be a part of your son’s life without trying to make him change.” She slid out of the seat. “That's what I would do if I really cared, at any rate.”

“I'll take that under advisement,” he said. “Good day, Ms. Watson.”

She didn't reply, instead shutting the door. She stood on the sidewalk and watched as the cab drove off before hailing another one. She got in and sat down, buckling in again. This time her driver was chatty, and while she had initially been in a foul mood by the time she got to Sherlock she had a bit of a smile on her face. She paid the driver and thanked him, waving back before she closed the door and turned to face Sherlock. Sherlock looked at her strangely. “I thought you would have a much more worried countenance when you arrived,” he said with a frown. “Or at least not have a smile.”

“That's why I got out of the cab before we got here,” she said.

His eyes widened slightly. “He arrived in a cab? And not a car?”

“Yup,” she said with a nod. “I told him what I really thought of him and his relationship with you and then I got out and caught another cab.”

“And what did you say?” Sherlock asked.

“I told him I was surprised he cared and he should start trying to have a better relationship with you,” she said with a shrug. He gave her a quizzical look. “He's the reason the whole thing with Moriarty wasn't splashed across all the newspapers here.”

“Ah,” he said. “I suppose one day I might thank him for that. Possibly. If I ever think he'd care.”

“Hey,” she said, placing a hand on his arm. “If he doesn't want to actually have a father son relationship with you, you don't need him. You have a new family now. You have me and Alfredo and Marcus and Gregson and Ms. Hudson. We can be the family you should care about.”

He gave her a small smile. “You already are.”

“Good,” she said, grinning back.

“Enough about all this. Are you ready to help me finish solving the case?”

“More than ready,” she said with a nod.

“Then follow me.” He headed into the building in front of them and she followed, glad that everything seemed to have worked out so far. Only time would tell if it continued to stay good, but she had to have faith that it would.


End file.
